The Urban Legends of Queens
by ArtisticWord
Summary: Parker used to have an empty desk next to his, until the new kid showed up. Spider-man used to be the only urban legend of his city, until another one showed up. Queens used to be crime free too, until gangs with dastardly plans united.(Post Civil War) (Tom Holland Spidey) (Really slow burn romance)
1. Chapter 1

J. Jonah Jameson had been through ten cigars in one evening. In his mind, it was for good reason.

The Daily Bugle, his newspaper business for Queens, had it's sales drop by 15% and that was a giant heap of money flushed down the crapper...money that could have been his and everyone else who worked for him. Rumor hard it that rivals in Hell's Kitchen or the Bronx had stories actually worth talking about, news about freaks doing odd jobs and things like that. Jameson didn't want to waste his papers glorifying those costume types, and yet his advertising manager was advising that he do exactly that.

"Not to say that the things we write are boring, but I do overhear talk from readers." Josh explained to him, a paper in hand. "They could hear about laws being passed or the latest museum opening over whatever social means they have...rather than just reading it. Sure, we keep the old stuff but...maybe add a little kick to things?"

"I'm running a newspaper buisiness, not a bakery." He grumbled and crossed his arms. "And one of ours got an Oscorp interview last week! What do these people want? They want to read all about some freaks in pajamas!"

"Unfortunately, that's exactly what they want. Entertaining for them, I guess. Our 15% could go back up if we even mentioned one of these urban legends for the briefest time."

Jameson snorted: of course THIS would be the only way out. "...Whatever. If these people wanna hear about 'em, I'll make their eyes bleed."

"...er, That's the spirit." Josh halfheartedly shrugged and pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket. "...the only problems left are finding a photographer and just the right guy to talk about...Hmm...How about 'The mysterious guy with the blazing fist'?"

The older man scoffed and shoot his head. "We'd need a shorter name. Iron punch or something cheesy like that."

"Okaaaay...Devil of Hell's Kitchen?"

"They've already got papers on him! You want this place to get shut down?!" He barked suddenly, and Josh raised a hand.

"Okay! Okay! The 'Punisher' hasn't been talked about !such over there? And he tends to move to other cities from time to time, right?"

"Yeah, but I hear he's in Harlem."

"Hmm...there's rumors about this private investigator-"

"Pass."

"...This guy that stops robberies during lunar phases?"

"Nada."

"What about the uh...guy and the chick? People dubbed them 'Cloak and Knife', right?"

"...That's in Arizona."

"Darn. Right...Spider-man."

Jameson sat up straight, intensely glaring at Josh. "No. That's final."

"Why not?!" The man pressed in response, dropping the paper as he waved his arms in exasperation. "He's the last one on my list! You know how long it takes for another one to appear on the scene?!"

"I don't care. I'm gonna give attention this arrogant little twig! Causing collateral damage, scuffing up windows! And the webs! He leaves all of those sticky little wads of crap everywhere like he owns this town!"

Josh rolled his eyes. "I never said you had to make him look like a good guy. Just talk about him! He's an Avenger, Jameson!"

"No, he fought WITH The Avengers." Jonah pointed out quickly. "He comes in for eight minutes and then leaves. If he were an Avenger, the whole world would know."

"Even so, the video footage released to the public isn't necessarily news! If we talk about this guy, who people would know at least met The Avengers...they'd eat it up! All we'd have to do is talk about this Spider guy just once."

Jonah inhaled and sighed loudly; He definitely hated Spider-man, but at least he would be more fun to talk about then the other yahoos mentioned to him. The man nodded while he rolled his eyes. "Fine. Spider-man it is. Let's get a story going."

"First we have to get a picture of him." Josh explained. "Since he's based here in Queens, we'll be able to get pictures of him. But we're short on photographers, remember? Kate quit last week."

"...MISS BRANT!" Jameson roared at the top of his lungs and jumpscared Josh. Seconds later, a young brunette with short cut hair and a casual dress peeked in awkwardly. The boss nodded her curtly.

"Put out the word: We're hiring."

* * *

The smoke stung Kaydi's eyes deeply, and she could barely breathe through the clouds of black billowing into the the distracting pain of sitting amongst shoes and umbrellas and hanging clothes her seven year old eyes could spot the orange glow flickering through the spaces of the closet doors. This light was scary instead of comforting, as light should be; light never burned up her room or the hallways of the apartment. Light didn't choke her and blind her every so often. Except, maybe now.

It was getting close to where she was, in that cramped closet. Kaydi huddled back a bit more into the corner of the room and frantically pushed a few pairs of shoes in front of her, hoping that just maybe it would keep the fires back. The sound of crackling flames was loud, but not enough to mask the sounds of the floor making awful moaning sounds. She even felt everything shift to the right a little bit in a sudden snap, and that's when she shut her eyes tightly. Kaydi curled herself into a sobbing ball, shuddering in pure fear while the flames only got closer and closer to the closet doors. She shrieked when the doors suddenly swung open, thinking that the fire was about to swallow her whole.

"Woah! Hey! Hey! It's okay!"

Kaydi frowned; fire doesn't talk. The little girl looked up towards the source of the voice and gasped.

"Yeah. I look funny. I know...C'mon. Whaddaya say we get outta here, huh?"

"I have to go in there- My Daughter's still inside!" The woman frantically shoved herself against the fire fighter in a desperate attempt to get past him. Even if weren't for him being clearly stronger, there were still four other fire fighters nearby that would notice the commotion.

"I understand that!" He responded gently. The man knew that, with the rate the building was burning at, the little girl had to get out of there fast. "But the building's already crumbling from the base, the whole thing will come down on top of you!"

The mother tried again from a different angle, narrowing her eyes intensely at him. "I DON'T CARE! I have to get her out!"

"Ma'am! We'll get her out!" The fire fighter struggled; _geez_ , she was actually stronger than she looked. "We're working on getting the ladder close enough for us to get in!"

"Move back! Move back! Everybody, go go!" A police officer abruptly bellowed from their side, followed by the loudest crackling sounds ever heard in that night. The west side of the apartment some sixty feet away from the crumbled downwards to the concrete soil. The firefighter was broken out of his startled stupor by the screams of citizens and shouts of parademics fleeing the area, picking up the struggling woman sadly.

The building fell in a domino-like fashion, each section that hit the ground affected the next section. The whole thing collapsed when the last part of the building gave out, but a tiny blur swung out of the window just before it was smashed. The blur went unnoticed by the watchers below until a wet slapping sound was detected at the the corner of a nearby lamp post, and then the sound of feet thudding on a car roof.

To the left, a figure was crouched almost majestically upon the roof of an ambulance van. The figure, aside from soot, was dressed in dark blue jeans below a red long-sleeved shirt that appeared tight against the figure's body. While black tennis shoes adorned the small feet of the figure, finger gloves attended to the hands and outlined two distinctively built watches with tiny nozzles. A huge red wooly hat was pulled over the figure's entire head like some kind of makeshift mask, and tinted goggles sat where the eyes would be. The chest of the shirt had the symbol of a spider, but it was blocked by the body of a little girl.

"Kaydi!" The woman cried suddenly, rushing towards the vehicle while anyone nearby simply watched in surprise.

"Mommy! " The little girl squirmed happily. The figure leaned forward and held out the girl with a hidden smirk.

"Yeah see?" The vigilante's voice was unmistakably male, albeit slightly high pitched."I told you I'd get you back to your Mom!"

The mother tearfully took hold of her child and hugged her about as tightly as one could imagine, and the girl did the same as best as she could. "...Oh, I-I'm sorry, Honey...I should have taken you w-with me..."

The little girl managed to grin at her. "It's okay! He saved me! He's really cool!"

"...th...thank you..." Was the sniffling show of gratitude towards the vigilante, who was watching them in silence for the moment.

"Uh...Any-Any time..." The figure stuttered, nodded curtly and leaped to his feet in a nonchalant movement, as if getting ready to leave. Although it was hard to be certain, the figure looked at Kaydi with a soft chuckle. "Er, Great daughter you have! Bravest girl I've met in a while."

"Thank you, Lady!" The little girl beamed in a sing song tone while her mother smiled.

"...um, actually it's-"

"Freeze!"

All eyes turned to a police officer who suddenly appeared and aimed a pistol shakily at the young man on the car roof. He looked unsure of himself and a bit in awe of what he was beholding. "Don't move!"

"...eh?"

"I said don't move!"

The masked hero craned his neck slightly, and it took a moment for everyone to realize thatshe was tilting his head in confusion. "Uh, I literally just saved the little girl right there. Her mother could vouch for me."

The officer disregarded the older woman about to speak. "You're still under arrest for acts of vigilantism! Come down slowly-"

"There's no laws against vigilantism! I think." He shrugged, before suddenly leaping backwards and startling people by landing on the concrete. The officer rushed to be in clear view of the figure and aimed his gun again.

"Stop!"

"HAMMER TIME!"

After the oddly placed exclamation, the figure flicked his wrist in the direction of the officer and a blur of white halted against the tip of the gun. The whole thing and even part of his hands were covered in some kind of giant web, thick enough to keep his hands stuck where they were.

"Don't worry! Ice and peanut butter?" The mask-muffled voice was heard. "Makes it all come off easily! Or you could just wait an hour."

Before the officer could say anything and before anyone else could move, he made a different hand movement towards a lamp post nearby and yanked himself above it as if he could fly. He went slinging through the jungle of taller buildings without any glances cast back. "TTFN, Folks!"

* * *

Peter quietly landed in the room, scanning to see if anyone was actually inside before closing the window behind him and taking off his mask. Breathing in a bit of fresh air, he briefly scraped back his mangled and messy brunette hair before tossing the mask on his bed. He sighed and fell back on the bed like a ragdoll. A tired, yet exhilarated ragdoll.

After a few minutes, he lazily lifted an arm and peeked at the webshooter bound to his wrist; an almost empty web cartridge awaited him eagerly. _Gotta make these things bigger..._

The other webshooter could not be checked before a knock was heard from the door. The teen didn't pay it too much attention. "Peter? Are you done showering?"

"Huh? Oh yeah! You can come in, Aunt May. " Two seconds later, Peter noticed that he still had the costume on and slammed his body forcefully against the door just in time. "I mean no! Don't come in right now!"

"Why not?"

"I...uh...I'm still naked."

"You're naked?"

"Yeah... Still looking for the-the, uh...stuff that I wear." Peter informed her with a nod, before realizing that she wouldn't see it.

"Oh. Okay." His Aunt responded blankly. "Well, I was just going to tell you the pizza's here and I was going to the washeteria now. I expect you to be in bed by the time I come back with these wet clothes."

Peter furrowed his brow as soon as her words reminded him of something important. "...Uh, yeah. Okay."

"Love you, Peter."

"Love you too, Aunt May."

Without waiting too much longer to hear her footsteps fade away into nothing, the teen leaped onto his bed and flicked a specific switch on his webshooter. The holographic face of Tony Stark stared back at him closely, and Peter frowned under the look given to him. When you talk to your 'employer' via hologram chat through your webshooter, and they responded by staring closely at you, one tends to worry. It wasn't until he spoke that Peter dropped the idea of the billionaire glaring. "You're looking better, Kid. Guess that backhand wasn't as serious as we thought, huh?"

"And the other...numerous punches, yes." Peter nodded, keeping his wrist steady. "Aunt May wasn't very suspicious about it. This kind of thing...sorta happens all the time."

"Ain't that a kick in the butt of Irony. You can stop a car without breaking a sweat and you've got Neanderthal issues."

"...what?"

He rolled his eyes. "Nothing. Where's your Aunt anyways? Hate to find out she's snooping outside the door."

"Nah, she's washing the clothes, Mr Stark. It could be days before she comes home." He shook his head, yet still glanced at the wooden door. "I might be able to drop it off before she gets back."

When he received a look of confusion, The teen glanced up at the attic hole thingy on his ceiling and added: "The suit, Mister Stark. Remember?"

"...why're ya givin it back?"

"I...I thought you would want it back. I'm fine using the suit I got, ya know..."

"Heck no! Those rags you're wearing right now? That's a walking fashion disaster. You're keeping my suit and that's final, young man."

Peter snickered a little at Tony's wit. He was often surprised that many people seldom laughed at the guy. "Alright, Alright. I'm keeping it."

"Good. now I'd love to chat and have a jolly cup of tea with you some more, but I've got some business to deal with regarding the eastern coast of Brazil."

He thought about Tony's statements, recalling that in the trending section of Youtube there was some random army radar video filmed from a beach supposedly showing a guy swimming as fast as a jet underwater. Even if he was a guy that used webs to get around, he didn't believe the video. "Oh yeah, I heard about that...I guess I'll see you around Mister Stark?"

"Are you seriously gonna keep calling me that?"

"Yep."

"Thanks for making me feel old, whippersnapper. Iron man out." His face suddenly dissipated into nothingness once again, and all that was soon left was a very cool watch. Peter gently unlatched the thing from his wrist as memories flashed through his brain like any other thought he had.

For one, he remembered how his Friday had began and how he acquired his suit as well as a trip to Germany. Then there was the fight against Ant guy and Captain America( who he was certain liked in him in an impressed way) and then...he was told to go home. Even so, he'd had his fill of excitement and fighting and dudes with metal arms for one weekend. After this sunday afternoon was over, Peter would be thrust back into the cruel war zone that many liked to refer to as 'Newtown High School'.

* * *

The location was far enough away from the rest of the city to be unnoticed by law enforcement, and just so happened to be at a half built warehouse. The workers could have quit halfway through building it, or maybe plans to continue got but or something like that. The Spikes didn't care about the building to that extent though, just whoever was inside the place.

The Spikes were what regular people would refer to as a gang. Hit and Runs, pick povkets, forgery, just plain vandalizing, hurting people...they could do it all and did it all. Most of the group was made up of low-life guys in their mid twenties or bums who got fired from their jobs- even one or two guys who depended on their parents when they weren't with the gang. They all were pretty low in IQ but when it came to numbers, usually stolen numbers, their ranks knew how of worked. They knew how meetings worked for people like them.

Some anonymous tip offered them a chance for a lot more cash and even safety from the law, offers that had them suspicious to say the least. The gang members all got there discreetly by several cars or sub's to stay under the radar, making up their minds to follow their leader inside when everyone was there. The leader liked to be referred to as 'Boss', for whatever simple reason it was.

The went into the moonlit place, because the roof was half done. Pale light brightly glinted off the concrete ground as well as themselves, illuminating support beams and casting eery shadows across the ground. Apart from the debris that was scattered around, the huge group soon came upon a snazzily dressed fellow with a specifically red tie. Boss raised an eyebrow at him, shoving his calloused hands into his pockets. "This is the place?"

"Not quite, Sir." The man voiced respectfully and motioned for them to follow. After reluctantly doing do and passing under several arches of bent metal and debris, the men reached a door with one hinge completely broken. The suited man opened the door and revealed stairs that dipped down almost vertically. "Right this way."

They all managed to walk in a 'double file line' and wound up at the bottom of the stairs, where concrete sliding doors eagerly parted to allow them in. They were in a room with several more sliding doors, but other groups of people practically blocked all of them. The Spikes stiffened upon recognizing a few of the five groups that were there, and muttered suspiciously under their breaths. Boss narrowed his eyes at the leader of one group to his left. "Hmmph. I didn't think you rats would be here too."

"Good to see you too." Was the response from a middle aged man in a blue business suit. His gang of button up shirted men called themselves The Edge, a name very few people lived long enough to tell. They were mostly a group of hackers and computer specialists; able to steal from online bank accounts with the right bugs and the right amount to make people think that it was just a glitch in their systems. They briefly allied with the Blades, but too many bavkstabs ensued. "The rest of you are still serving in prison?"

"Nah. Bailed or Broke em out, Jags." Boss glanced at another group and smirked. "Finn Cooley. You're not looking too shabby."

Cooley was a lucky man, but not very much so. He was the leader of a fourth of Irish mob, a guy who preferred to stay where he was overseas. After his son got killed in Hell's kitchen and a heap of money went down the drain Finn bolted over to the city and actually caught the guy who did it all: Frank Castle, a ex-military pain in the butt who was much different than other 'superheroes'. Finn was lucky to survive a shotgun to the face, but not enough to save him from being disfigured. Until he recovers, he rolls around in a wheelchair and wears a transparent plastic mask over his head to keep his face from falling off.

"This meeting is supposed to be for the real men." He wheezed in front of the rest of his Irish mob, the two fourths that originally stayed overseas. In other words, he had 100 men behind him and 800 back at whatever base he had. "Go home, lads."

"Does anyone know How long is this supposed to take?" Said the boss of the only other gang in the room. Surprisingly, this boss was a woman who looked to be in her mid thirties and had flowing hair the color of silver. Her lackeys looked oddly like security soldiers unlike everyone else's goons. "I have more important things to do than listen to you three."

"You were standing there quietly before, Sweetie." The Edge leader harrumphed. "You can do it a bit longer."

They all failed to notice that the man who led them in had finished a phone call and was now waiting patiently for the door he stood near to open. The doors opened just loudly enough for everyone to look towards the dark opening and try to peer in to find anyone. Soon, a man in a plaid blue suit stepped out of the darkness and stopped arrogantly before the four groups. He seemed normal enough, excluding the fact that his head seemed a bit larger than normal. Perhaps it was his hair.

"You're him?" Jags narrowed his eyes.

"Nah. I ain't him. Name's Joseph." The guy snorted. " He's busy wit other problems right now, but the big man'll meet ya later."

"He calls us all here...and doesn't even show up." Finn stated to be sure about what he'd just been told."

"It's police he's got problems with." Joseph explained. "In any case, I'm supposed to be the one telling you mooks why you should join the big man."

They all silently stared at him, so he began.

"You all have businesses to run, I kin see. I kin also see that you boys and gals chose bad places to set up shop and make a profit. Yer way of thinking involved taking over the darker towns- the places where cops hardly lived. But things ain't always what they seem." He gestured to the Irish mob. "Cooley here is living proof of it. Silver too."

Boss looked unimpressed. "Your point?"

"Queens is my point. This town's got a lotta cops, but crime for them's been down for too long. They're growing fat, they're growing lazy and they're growing weak. A pack of wolves on a pig is an easy fight to win. We're the wolves here, and you kin guess who's da pig."

Silver had an interested look in her eyes, and a small smile. "You make it sound so simple."

"We've got resources to make it simple. We got our hands on big brains." Joseph grinned an unsettling grin. "Brains that can whip up guys as strong as the Hulk. Wit the right ingredients."

That statement peaked everyone attention even if it seemed unlikely, and glances were exchanged amongst the criminal empires. After some time of silence, Finn sent a piercing gaze at Joseph. "What's in it for you?"

"Big man'll tell you his reasons soon enough...Why don't you all talk it out and give me a call when you make a decision, eh?" Joseph asked them, reluctantly receiving a few slow nods. The man nodded in return. "Alright...think wisely on this one. Things could change for you all, big time.

* * *

"Mr. Parker?"

"HEAT'S MEASURED IN JOULES!"

"...Yes. Very good, , I thought you weren't paying attention again. You're improving."

Peter nervously chuckled at the same time that his classmates finally stopped giving him weird stares. They turned back around and he hurriedly jotted down the notes he was supposed to be taking the whole time before. The lanky freshman went by the numbering on the paper, filling in the blanks between sentences with the specific words or symbols regarding IPC class. But that was when he noticed that he didn't have the first eight words on the paper because Mr Haley was done lecturing the class about it and had since moved on to the other words in the paper.

"Internal combustion." Peter looked over to his right with a start and saw the sophomore girl with shoulder length dark brown hair talking to him, clad in her usual jeans and black shirt. He stared at her dumbly for what seemed like half an hour, then she rolled her turquoise eyes at him like he was totally _stupid._ Which was a fact that Peter had come to accept over time. "Internal Combustion! That's number one...Here, just take mine for a sec."

Sneakily he snatched the paper from her hand set it on his table. "Thanks Michelle. Such a lifesaver."

He could practically hear the smile in her whisper. " You'd be failing without me, Pete."

"Ms. Coleman, Why are you distracting poor Mr. Parker?" Mr. Haley asked sharply, making Peter cringe. He was certain she was too. " Would you like to share what you were discussing with Mr. Parker, or is it something too important for us to hear?"

"Daaaang, Parker!"Was a comment from behind him. He knew that annoying, eardrum bursting voice anywhere. Either a caveman was speaking, or Flash Thompson was about to say something stupid again. Not that there was a difference. "You weren't supposed to start flirting till you hit puberty!"

Aside from Michelle and himself, everyone else chuckled. Peter rested his chin his palm and muttered loudly: "Wow. Real witty, Eugene."

"Whatchu call me?"

"Gentlemen, let's quiet ourselves." Mr. Haley spoke sharply. "Interruptions will not be tolerated here. Another problem out of one of you earns a detention."

In an abrupt motion, the door to the classroom swung open. The first person to enter was the counselor of the school, clad in a buttoned up shirt and thick glasses. He nodded once to and cleared his throat to speak to the rest of the class. "Hey everyone."

The class remained blankly stared at him, causing a brief span of silence. The counselor's words sparked deja vu within Peter.

"...Well! I'm sorry to interrupt class for you all, but I would like to introduce a new student to the school. " He stepped in a little further to make way for an unseen person. "Come on in."

The new student briskly walked into the room. Peter raised an eyebrow at seeing a tall, platinum blonde girl in front of the classroom with crossed arms and an all too well presented stoic look. Besides the disinterested look, she wore a navy blue shirt down past her waistline and sweatpants that were the darkest shade of grey. Turquoise eyes, completely aloof in their gaze, sat above pink lips formed in a line. To sum up her look, she seemed like the kind of person who just didn't _care._

"This," The Counselor spoke. " is Sha-reese? Right?"

"Cerise." Her voice corrected blankly, her eyes begging to roll.

"Oh. Right! Well, I'll leave you to get settled in your class, Cerise." He nodded at Haley, who nodded back and watched the counselor leave. Then he turned to the girl, glancing at the seats left open in his classroom. Not that there were many to begin with: just one next to Peter and two others in the back of the room.

"Since you're here this late, we won't have you take the notes yet. Why don't you sit next to Peter over there? The left of that nice young gentleman with the brown hair. "

 _Huh. What are the odds..._ Peter waised lazily and awkwardly, getting her attention at the price of snickers from Flash. The girl sat down without another glance at the boy nor were any words spoken to him. Which was fine by Peter; he'd learned the hard way that talking to girls(not including friends and family) was something he sucked at big time. The last thing he wanted was to have someone else stare at him weird.

So, for pretty much the rest of the lecture on heat transfer and conservation, Peter wrote down whst was needed for his notes and didn't glance anywhere but the board. It wasn't until the last five minutes of class that he was interrupted from finishing a sentence.

"*Ahem*...Vous...I mean, you."

He looked to his left and Cerise was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "Do you mind if I keep your notes until tommorow?"

Her heavy accent didn't stump him at all; he recognized French when he heard it. Did this mean she was a transfer from somewhere else? Peter blinked to clear his thoughts and dumbly handed over the paper to her. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

"Merci." She muttered it quietly; he assumed it was thanks, and turned away once more. The rest of the day he didn't spot her, except at lunch when she sat at a lone table and far away in Geometry.

* * *

The school day was finally over and she was finally out of the last class. Time was unbearably slow for Cerise as she journeyed from class to class and that slow time was filled with peers staring and occasionally trying to greet her as if she were shy. She was anything but shy; moreso determined to not talk with anyone. The last thing on her mind was to make small talk about whatever it was they talked about there.

She walked out of the school doors along with the other two hundred or so students,who either flocked to their respectful rides or to groups to gossip away the evening. They sat around the outdoor lunch tables in huge clusters, stood against the wall or ran around with heaps of laughter in the air. On her way to the sidewalk, Cerise often noticed that a specific group of girls sent not-too friendly glances in her direction when she passed them. She hoped that they would actually say something to her; she needed amusement at a place like this.

"Hey, Cherry!" The teen's brow formed a straight line at the sound of the voice. It obviously belonged to one of those football- confident types. Sure enough, a tall muscular blonde lumbered over to her with a cheesy grin in hand. "I see you walk home."

" en effet." She regretted stopping, but did so anyway.

"...uh, okay. " He responded, obviously deterred by her word choice for the briefest of moments. " How about I walk ya home, huh?"

She twitched involuntarily, and shoved her hands in her pockets to avoid a nasty comment being spit at him. She need to save her comments for later. "No."

"Aw, come on." He stepped in front of her when she turned to talk away. "This is Queens! You could get robbed."

"...Do you think I'm weak?"

"Huh?...Uh,no."

"chouette." Cerise countered with a sarcastic grin, sidestepping him with ease and continuing to walk away. "Then I'm walking alone."

She had managed to walk a good five feet away from the guy at a casual pace when she gasped; something smacked her right in the rear. Cerise whirled around with a signature glare and immediately spotted the football at her heels, and then a guy right behind the one she'd talked to.

"Sorry." He said. She knew he wasn't sorry, and had been aiming for that specific spot. "I missed hitting him."

Cerise picked up the football and chucked it at him, only for the boy to catch it. She watched him smugly grin at her, while the other boy chuckled. "Heh. Nice arm."

The football suddenly exploded in his hands, bits of the ball flying up to smack him in the face and leaving a very painful stinging sensation in his palms. He shrieked at the pain and at the jumpscare, while the other boy looked on in horror. "My football! What did you do, man?!"

The other couldn't respond through his shrieks, something that made Cerise faintly smirk and continue walking away from them. After that hilarious ending, she found herself crossing the streets during the final minutes of rush hour and enduring a few random honks from cars. She stalked over another, less busy street and began to make a beeline down the sidewalk to get the subway stairs. Random buildings stood there as she passed them by, along with people of all different kinds and all different looks. Through the masses of citizens, she could spot a very familiar person that she was approaching from the side.

"Thanks." Peter murmured to the cart owner just loud enough that she could hear it and stalked away from the hot dog cart with the titular food item in hand, only to bump his shoulder into her chest. He blushed rapidly at seeing that he'd ran into her and his lips moved in a blur. "Ohmygoshimsosorryaboutthatididntseeyouthere-"

"I-It's fine." She reluctantly told him. Cerise got a whiff of the hot dog and frowned at how oddly enticing it smelled, even if she was reluctant to buy one. She looked down at the hot dog for only a moment, but he still noticed her look.

"It's a frank-er, a hot dog." He explained to her with a shrug and half a smile. After a few seconds of silence and her uncertain look, he spoke to the owner of the cart again. "L-Let's have another one. I'll p-pay for it later, Tom. Promise."

"Retarder..er-No." Cerise spoke up awkwardly. He already seemed nervous just talking to her(which might've hinted at his social life in school), so owing a guy over food for her would be...weird, right? She usually bought her own food anyway. "You don't need-"

"It'll be free." The cart owner shrugged to him and soon handed her another hotdog, with a thin line of ketchup across it. "Enjoy!"

Before heading towards the subway again, she bobbed her her head to him once. Imagine her surprise at seeing Peter follow her down as well, barely noticing her until she blocked his path down the stairs. "What are you doing?"

"Fhlam..." He held up a finger and swallowed the chewed up hot dog. "I'm about to head down a-and wait for the subway."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. I'm serious! I live on Appleleaf drive, in that big apartment on the block. " Peter continued, raising an eyebrow at her and chuckling. "What- Didja think I was following you?"

Cerise didn't respond to him, just turned slowly and continued to walk down the stairs. Once she stepped foot on the bottom, she heard a mumbled question, as if he weren't sure about asking it. The blonde turned around and eyeballed him. "Am I what?"

"A-Are you from France?" The boy repeated, shrugging his backpack on more securely. "It's just...you kinda sound French...?"

"...Yes. I'm from France." Nearby and hanging from the ceiling was a sign with lit-up words/numbers. Below the title 'Queens Plaza' were departure times. They were there two minutes early for the 4:00 departure, along with a mob of other people. "I've been here for two years...learned English then...you can tell I still slip."

"Oh...Two years? How come I haven't seen you before?"

"Homeschooling...It's complicated. " Cerise told him reluctantly and fell silent.

Peter seemed to leave it at that, and she began to get used to the silence. But just when she thought that the train would come any second, his next question struck her ears. "Do you hate this place?"

 _That_ caught her off guard so much that all she could do was give him a surprised look. "I...uh..."

"Eh, I can tell you do." Peter shrugged nonchalantly, glancing down at the train tracks when a metallic him filled the air. "You liked wherever you were and wish you'd stayed there, right?"

"...yeah. I guess you could say that."

"I wish I'd stayed where I was too." Was the response. "I wish I'd stayed _home._ "

She snorted to conceal a chuckle; it was slightly funny. "No kidding?"

"No kidding." He shook his head and frowned. "My Aunt May, she-she only wants me out of the 'house' because she thinks I snore too loud."

"Heh... ma mère ..." Cerise paused for a moment to think: was she actually allowing herself to talk with someone? If so, she was too far in to stop now, right? "Er...my mom thinks it'll be fun at school for me."

Peter's lips formed a straight line as he tsked. "Nope. School is not the place for it...It's a jungle. I'm lucky to be alive after this long."

He might've said something else to her, but the roar of the train as it slowed down drowned it out. People muttered while they all clamored onto the train, and Peter was slightly carried away by the current of people. He looked back at her, gave her an exaggerated shrug and walked on. She soon managed to get on as well, searching through the crowds of standing civilians for a possible seat. She coicindentally discovered Peter ten seconds into the search, seated next to an empty chair and about to put in earbuds.

... _Pourquoi pas?_ Cerise sighed through her nostrils and walked over to him.

* * *

The suit felt like regular skin to him, as if was overall just him. When he zoomed through the air on his webline it didn't feel slightly clumsy like his old suit did, because it seemed sleeker and well fitting...and just cool. The goggles that could focus in or move on physical command only added to the list of good things he had to say about it. He really owed Mister Stark one for this.

His fingers flicked into the usual position and another thick stream of his webline smacked into the gargoyle attached to a building, carrying him a short swinging distance before he landed nonchalantly on a lower rooftop. The boy crept to the edge of the roof to gaze down upon the city of Queens...the city he protected whenever he got away from his Aunt and the restraints of High school. The latter of which was hard to leave behind for a little while, as evidenced by the fact that he'd forgotten to take his backpack off back at the alley he'd changed in. Thanks to Peter having taken the subway to get to school even before the infamous bite, he could stay out as his friendly neighborhood self for almost as long as he wished and use the same excuse for being home late all the time. Thank goodness homework was getting scarce now that his grades were officially branded 'B Honor roll'.

He jolted suddenly when his vibrating phone jumpscared him. To his utter relief, it wasn't Aunt May. "Hey, Mister Stark."

"Squeaky voice! Always hilarious to hear from you." The response made him roll his eyes. People may complain about him trying to be funny during sentences, but Tony made him look quiet. And with a nickname like Squeaky voice, he wished he was quiet. "You never called since yesterday! I missed you."

"That's awful sweet coming from you. I was a little busy in school. Ever heard of it?"

"Pfft! Heck no! What is this school you speak of, oh random ally of mine?"

Peter chuckled dryly; the memory of him standing amongst the likes of Black widow or War Machine was just too funny. What kind of skill set did he have to bring to the table? A few cobwebs, decent strength and a mouth that never shut up. "Well, Sorry to get any hopes up, but I'm doing patrol right now."

"Darn it. Would have been nice to have a fellow science buddy tinker with stuff..." He trailed off, and Peter pondered if he was literally imaging that. "...um, anyways! I hear there's a high speed chase on 36th. But not between cops, or so the transmitter says."

"Probably two road ragers. I'll go handle it now. Thanks for the info, Mister Stark... Ill , uh...I'll see you later I guess."

"Yes you will, kid." He could practically hear the smile in his voice, before he could hear nothing else at all.

Spider-man stretched his arms over his head for a few seconds, and leaped off of the building when he finished warming up. His body ripped through the air on his journey downwards half as fast as a speeding bullet, and the shaped goggles protected his eyes from the winds. His arm shot out at the same time that he flicked out a webline to swing from and he found himself moving even faster as his momentum grew. Below him and not far in front of him, Peter spotted the vehicles chasing each other at top speed through slower cars and ramming them aside with ease. Before he could judge how to safely clog the wheels up, loud winds surged forward a few feet below his swinging body. A huge, thick sphere of air angrily circled itself and hovered swiftly above the roofs of other cars at a horizontal level with the ground. It seemed to be chasing the speeding vehicles as well.

"Huh." Spider-man focused in on the sphere. "That's new."

* * *

 **Alright! I think that's a good spot to end.**

 **Leave a review please; whether negative or positive, I'd like feedback on the story. Ideas, even. Not to say I don't have an idea for the future of this story, but your help would still be appreciated.**

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter and all the little easter eggs in it! See you later.**


	2. Chapter 2

"DRIVE FASTER! C'MON!"

"WHADDAYA THINK I'M DOING?! JUST KEEPING HOLDING TH' STUPID CANS!" Flint barked back hysterically, keeping his sights on the car leading them through the sea of other vehicles. They just needed to follow it at a fast enough pace that the cops wouldn't be able to catch up in time. Or anyone else for that matter.

"The police are gonna catch up to us, man!" Alex pointed out, as if he expected to hear a siren at any second. "They're gonna come out and catch us! Again!"

"I can't FRIGGIN concentrate! Shut up!" The car swerved past a small Honda at a sudden speed, before moving straight behind the other car. The first bulldozed through a convertible and kept the other cars at bay, so as not to cause the trailing car to crash. Alex anxiously looked at the rear view windows during the pursuit and instantly regretted it when he saw who was just behind them.

"Hey!" He shoved his partner in the shoulder. "Hey, He's here!"

Flint turned around as if he expected to see anyone behind them, and then turned back around. His escape plans were interrupted by the sounds of surging winds slithering against glass and metal. They both watched as a car-sized globe of condensed air rotated around itself like a miniature tornado and floated effortlessly forward past them, then past the car they followed. Suddenly, the first car swerved to head down another street, and the airball simply stood there.

Flint yelped, about to turn the wheel when the car slammed headfirst into the spherical object and it flipped through the air.

* * *

"Ah nuts." The webslinger witnessed the car being tossed above the heads of random civilians, flipping like a tossed coin and imagined it impacting somewhere on the concrete like a rotten fruit.

He tugged extra hard on the next webline he spun, propelling himself forward swiftly enough for him to land on the underside of the car in midspin. He crawled around to the roof of the car and kicked his feet out just in time to catch the ground. The hero held the car effortlessly by his hands and a bit of his shoulders, before dropping the back on all four wheels. The thing noisly bounced it's wheels.

"Phew." Spider-man placed his hands on his hips. "Obviously, my incredibly ripped body was the true hero here."

The familiar sphere of winds approached the car and the teen, causing the latter to get into a defensive stance. The ball dissipated when it got near enough to them, becoming the tranquil oxygen that it was before and revealing the creator of such a force. A figure floated harmlessly onto the ground, revealing to be dressed in a body suit that seemed entirely connected and entirely the darkest color of blue one could imagine. It seemed to be skin tight just like his own suit, if not a teensy bit tighter and made of spandex. The shoes looked connected to the suit like his own shoes and the figure's hands were adorned with fingerless gloves. The figure's head was covered by dark tinted ski goggles as well as a thin, bandana like cloth that was tied from the base of the skull and wrapped around to cover the bridge of the nose. Hair, almost white as snow, was kept back tightly in a sort of ponytail. It took a few seconds for Spider-man to deduce from that (as well as other distinguishing features) that this new guy was actually a girl.

The girl stalked forward briskly, turquoise eyes coldly staring down the car just behind him. Spider-man glanced back at the car and noticed two very familiar crooks clearing the pain from their skulls. "Heeey! Wait a sec! The twins! Flintstone and Lexi!"

Flint managed to glare at him. "I hate you."

Peter smirked beneath the mask and turned back towards the girl who was closing the distance quickly. He applauded her and briefly earned a raised eyebrow. "I gotta say, that entrance was _Spectacular._ I mean, were you going for the last airbender effect or what? Cuz that hair's gotta go. Just sayin."

She walked past him and halted in front of the driver door, before making the swiftest of hand movements. The door was yanked off with a rush of wind and left only a confused Flint sitting in the driver seat. Spidey noticed that one thing was a little different about his favorite foiled criminals: they both seemed to be holding huge canisters of glowing blue gel. The canisters themselves looked high tech and hard to come by.

The girl grabbed Flint by his collar and yanked him out an astonishing twelve feet through the air before he landed against a parked car. Alex whipped out a gun from somewhere, aiming it dead at the girl's body. Spider-man's sense blared and spurred him into action a little too late. The bullet zipped at her, but she raised a hand in his direction before and the bullet somehow stopped completely. It hovered there in middair before their astonished eyes, just before the bullet turned around and impacted Alex's shoulder as if he'd shot himself.

The girl turned her sights on Flint while Spider-man dumbly blinked; she grabbed him by his collar again but didn't throw him anywhere. Flint held his hands up nervously. "Hey! Hold on! Wait a sec, Lady!"

"The canisters." Her voice was feminine, but still about as threatening as anyone else's voice could be. "Where did these come from?"

"I...uh..."

Her arm jerked back and then forced a fist across his face like a sledgehammer. Her eyes narrowed even more at him. "Where?"

He stuttered in an attempt to speak, and she raised her fist again. But a webline was quick to pull her by the arm to where she was upright and away from Flint. She glared back at Spider-man, who was holding the canister as if it were a baseball. "As much I'd like to watch Flintstone get it right in the kisser, I think it's pretty obvious where this came from."

She blinked.

"...Oscorp? This is obviously their tech?" Spidey explained exasperatedly. " I know you're probably new here...what am I saying, i would have seen you before...but you gotta have knowledge of the place at least!"

The girl crossed her arms, facing him fully. "Where is Oscorp, exactly?"

"...You're not blind right?" He held up a webbed hand. "How many fingers am I holding up? You need a hint?"

"Just tell me."

"Why should I tell you?"

"So I can return those." She answered in a slight bit of annoyance, pointing lazily at the canister like it was obvious.

"Nope." Spider-man tsked and wagged his finger in front of her, lenses narrowing dramatically. The girl looked even more annoyed with this act. "This is my can of Tmnt goo. You get your own. I'm going to take this back to Oscorp...the tallest building in Queens...and for all I care you can follow. So there, nyeh."

She looked as if she were going to retort, but the distant sounds of police sirens cut her off. The girl muttered something particularily nasty under her breath and floated into the air with little effort, the same sphere of air surging around her. Peter blinked in slight awe as she rose several meters above his head and zipped away as quickly as she had come. "Geez. That was rude...You guys know her?"

"...Does it LOOK like I know her?!" Flint rubbed his sore jaw, not even caring to get up.

"Good point." Spidey snatched the other canister away from Alex and stuffed both containers under his left arm. He used his right arm to cast a webline. "Well, you guys have fun in jail. Say hi to the cops for me."

* * *

During theater the next day at school, Peter's thoughts somehow wandered back to the mysterious girl with the airbending skills. One would think that blackbox would be an area where distracting thoughts were scarce, but they would completely wrong. He sighed as the same questions popped up whenever he tried to think of something else: Who was that girl? Why hadn't she appeared before? What was her interest in the cans? What was the teacher talking about?

"And thanksgiving centered on the kindness of many people in the past, and their peace with each other on one special day." Ms. Ellison explained, pacing before the short stadium of students. "We can all remember or at least think of an instance like that of thanksgiving."

A sleeved arm raised into the sky from the corner of his vision. He recalled that Cerise sat a little ways behind him and to the left, not to mention a few other things. Like how she had her hair in a tight braid, how she wore a long sleeved shirt with a skirt and how she'd barely said two words to him. He knew they were hardly aqquaintences, but he expected something more. Anyways, the teacher nodded her and she dropped her arm. "May I use the restroom?"

"Er, sure. Hurry back, Cerise." She watched her leave and continued to speak with the classroom afterwards. "So, with that said, I plan on having our final project before break to be about thanksgiving, obviously. Each of you are going to choose one partner, and the two of you will make a one minute skit based on the holiday!"

The brunette girl that had a pixie cut hairstyle raised her hand. "Why does it have to be one partner? Can't we have a group?"

"No. You lost that privelage because of the sub report last week. Now, choose wisely. You'll be stuck with them for the next three days...well, two since you're going to perform Friday."

Instantly, most of the girls in the room stalked over chairs as if their lives depended on it, laughing like idiots and grabbing their determined partner's hands to seal the deal. The guy nonchalantly walked over to their friends and immediately resumed their conversations about who they smoked with over the weekend and stuff about girls. Peter glanced around helplessly at seeing pretty much everyone find a partner. He spotted one thin girl with strawberry blonde hair that he recognized, the one that always had gum in their mouth during classes.

"Uh, Hi." The boy started quietly, and she looked up from her phone for the first time. "Uh, Candace...right?"

She half smiled at him. "Yeah...you're piper, right? The kid I worked with in geometry?"

He remembered that; they had to work together on an assignment that required making a 3D polygon out of toothpicks. They practically failed because it was taped instead of glued together, although in his defense she mentioned that she'd get a hot glue gun the day before it was due. The next day she acted like he said he'd bring a hot glue gun. "I-Its...actually P-Peter. But-you wanna maybe...work on this together?"

"Uh...Well, I don't know yet..." Great. She was doing the obvious 'I don't want you, but I'm not gonna say it to your face' routine. If he had a dollar for every time he'd encountered this, he'd be Tony Stark. "I'm working with that girl."

She pointed to one her best friends at the other end of the stadium, texting busily herself. Grinning awkwardly, he looked back down at Candace. "Y-you're not even,heh, sitting next to her."

"Oh, well I'm about to." Was all she said, crossing one leg over the other slowly.

Peter nodded once and turned away, which gave him permission to drop the grin. He halted in front of the teachers desk and looked at tiredly; he wasn't going to try speaking to any of the other kids. "Everyone has a partner already."

She looked up from her paperwork and scanned the seats through her thick rimmed glasses. "What about Candace?"

"Already paired up. Everyone is."

"Hmm..." The main doors to the blackbox suddenly opened up. In walked Cerise, slightly confused at seeing everyone in a chatting mess and a random teen sitting in her chair near her belongings. The teacher grinned at Peter. "How about Cerise? I'm sure you two would get along fine! She's a smart kid, like you!"

Peter stammered. "Yeah, but..."

"You wouldn't want to leave her out, would you?" He cringed at her obvious guilt tripping attempt and reluctantly shook his head. Then I think you've found your partner. You can explain it to Cerise."

The teen slid his hands into his pockets and met her walking down the stadium steps, carrying her belongings sourly. She looked at him once he was near enough, sighing. "We're paired up, aren't we?"

"Ya had to ask?" Peter offered with a shrug.

"Hmmph...I wish I was able to work alone...no offense."

"None taken. You think if we gripe about it enough, she'll let us work alone?"

That got her to smirk softly. "...So, what exactly are we going to do for this...project?"

Peter was about to respond, but the bell suddenly shrieked aboved their heads. The rest of the class immediately bolted for their bags, then for the door letting them out of the classroom most of the teens had shouldered past them, he got his opportunity to speak. "I'll uh, text you about it I guess...?"

Cerise nodded a few times in agreement, before slowly advancing out of the door with a simple wave to him. Before Peter could walk very far to his backpack, he realized that he never did get her phone number to begin with. Cursing under his breath he rushed out of the door and down the hallway to get to her, but unfortunately bumped into Flash's shoulder on the way.

"Hey! Watch it Parker!" The taller teen narrowed his eyes down on him, rousing the attention of his posse and a few other random people. Peter swallowed, his 'friend' completely forgotten for the moment.

"Woah...uh, sorry about that! I...d-didnt see you there-"

"Find those glasses you dumped!" Flash barked, referring to Peter's life before the spider bite. "Maybe it won't help your face but it should help you watch where you're going!"

He knew that standing up to Flash would be simple thanks to his strength, but the last thing he needed was the slightest suspicion. Peter took a step back. "Er...I..."

A feminine hand suddenly pushed Flash back, and Peter's vision was briefly blocked when Cerise stepped in front of him. The brunette nervously glanced from her protective stance to the kids that stood by. He could see what their videos would be titled now: 'Wimp kid saved by girl'.

"Maybe he's not wearing glasses because he doesn't want to see you." Cerise snapped threateningly and crossed her arms over her chest. Flash looked startled by her sudden appearance, but then a bit amused.

"Pfft. You get your girlfriend to fight your battles for you-"

"He doesn't have to put up with you. No one should, really." The girl interrupted bravely. She and Flash entered a rather intense glare contest, which would have continued for quite some time if it weren't for one of the teachers of the classroom coughing.

"Am I interrupting something?" The teacher said sarcastically.

Flash instantly began to move away with his lingering glare, and Cerise merely returned it. Once the teacher went away with some assurance, she finally relaxed her arms and shoulders while turning around. "Er...I-I'm sorry about stepping in. That must be a really big stab to your...social life here..."

"...Pfft. No big deal. 'S not like I'm a big guy around the school or anything so...yeah." Peter shrugged, swallowing pride for the moment. "...I should probably say thanks...?"

Cerise scoffed. "Don't get sweet on me , Peter. That's the only time I help out."

"Agreed...Mind if I give you my phone number?"

Her frown slowly flipped on itself, just a little bit though.

* * *

Peter dropped his backpack on his bed with a loud and fished his vibrating phone from his pocket. The teen answered it upon seeing it was Aunt May, and put it on speaker while the setting the phone on a desk. "Hey."

"Hi, Peter! How was your day at school?"

"Its-uh...It was pretty good." He slipped his shirt off overhead and then his pants, before reaching for his suit above his head. "Just a normal day, really. I have this partner project I'm going in theater..."

"Cool. Who's your partner? Is it that nice boy, Eugene?"

The suit was finally on by the time he scoffed and snatched up his shoes. "No, Aunt May. It's this new girl at school. Cerise- she's from France, she said."

"Ooooh. I see. Is she cute?"

"Y'know, every meeting I have with a girl isn't going to automatically be romantic." Peter explained. His gloves snapped on soundlessly. "We're just friends."

"Just kidding, Honey! I wanted to check in on you because I'm going to be working a few hours overtime tonight."

 _Yes! More Spidey time!_ The teen smirked to himself mischeviously, sliding on the mask only to his forehead. "Alright. What time would you estimate getting back?"

"About...Elevenish? I think? It depends. You'll be alright while I'm gone?"

"Yeah, I'll eat the leftover pizza in the fridge."

"Okay. I love you, Honey."

"I love you, Aunt May." Spider-man pulled on the mask fully and hung up.

A few minutes later, the hero was swinging his way across great distances of pavement and people on sidewalks. The speed of his swings picked up as he zoomed higher into the air and built up momentum. Nothing happened for the first half hour of his extended patrol time, which was ironic for his city; it was always busy. Queens was a borough of the Big Apple after all. It doesn't sleep at all...and neither did it's crime. It was just...hiding, right?

He swished low to the ground past the sidewalk, and seemingly jumpscared a random dark skinned guy walking buy. Peter looked back at him closely, though and recognized than in an instant. The man apparently recognized him too; he bolted in the opposite direction and down an alley. Spidey tsked s few times under his breath and allowed himself to let go of his current web. The momentum curled his path through the air backwards, right into the alleyway and just in front of the dark skinned man.

Spider-man stood slowly from his routine 'spider landing' approach to face this familiar denizen. "...If it isn't Turk Barrett. You got outta jail pretty fast there."

The man sighed in exasperation, his arms crossed around the leather jacket he was wearing as usual. Turk was the kind of criminal that hated encountered guys like Peter, but always ended up running into them more times than once. Like right now, for instance. "Yeah, man...Y-You know how it is."

"Hmmph. What are you doing out of Hell's Kitchen? " Spider-man tilted his head. "Or, you could answer 'what did you just do'?"

"What? Can't a man get a walk on without people accusing him..?" Turk relaxed his arms during the sarcastic remark, a bag of Doritos fell out from under his jacket. They both looked up from the bag. "...I swear I only took one."_

"Barry..."

"Aw, c'mon man! I just got out! I wanted a quick snack! You gotta know what that's like!" He pleaded in a rather pitiful manner. Peter snorted under his mask to keep from laughing. "Can't you let me go this once, man? Let a brother walk just once!"

"Weeeeell...there might be one way I let you slide this one time."

"What is it, man?"

Peter backed up and leaned nonchalantly against the wall of the alley. "Yesterday, I kinda stopped this robbery of chemicals from Oscorp. Glowing blue stuff and all that...know anything about it?"

"If I'm not in it, I don't know much." Turk genuinely shrugged. "...Maybe I heard something about a gang or two tryin to expirement with it? There's some plans being acted on...that's for sure. Y'know? Bad ideas starting to be tested and all that?"

"Yeah, I see...You know what? Thanks. The next time I catch you, I'll tell the cops you stole those chips. For now, you can scram. See ya around." Spider-man raised his hand in an obvious signal to high five downwards, but the crook stared at him suspiciously. "Nah. C'mon! Don't leave me hanging...There ya go. "

Just as Turk picked up his chips and walked down to the end of the Alley with a smug smile, he was called to again. "Hey, by the way...know anything about a girl with airbender skills?"

"Your partner?"

"She's not my partner. I'm wondering who she is."

"I wouldn't know." The man shrugged and finally began to disappear around the corner. "I figured all you costume types knew each other."

Spider-man mulled over his words for a little longer, but ultimately leaped up and away.

* * *

 **Sorry for the shorter chapter! Next one should be longer! Hope you like this one!**


	3. Chapter 3

Jameson was halfway through his cigar, and still chewing on the stupid thing as if his life depended on it. With his hat atop his head and a frown set beneath his odd moustache, the middle aged fellow set off across the street wearing his trench coat as usual. Fall was quick to pass, and he knew he'd need something bigger to warm himself up...but his thoughts were more focused on warming up something else. Ever since yesterday's Bugle numbers dropped, he'd had to look into new and interesting story ideas generated in the heart of Queens, something to catch the attention of the public his business yearned to have.

Civilians chatted noisily and crossed the street, not one person taking notice of the sour gentleman in their midst. Jameson grumbled halfheartedly under his breath at the hopelessness he felt from it all. There was no need to, but he did remind himself that he could never seem to find the right subject for his paper. Everything worth talking about happened in other boroughs or cities altogether; the most he could find was a small science expo being run by some random doctor he knew nothing about...Octavio or something like that.

If it were really up to Jameson, he'd have Brant write a thing or two about his boy flying up there amongst the stars. Now that was a true thing to write about in a newspaper; intricately woven details of the life of an astronaut and the grueling tasks it took to officially be one. James was a true hero- _-_ nothing like the freaks meddling in world affairs or hunting down random people in the dead of night. This was only lucky for Jameson, that he didn't have to worry about any vigilantes running rampant in the cities like they owned the place; Queens was the only safe zone left in New York after all. The man adjusted his jacket at the collar a little more and started to make an 'L' shaped turn down the sidewalk to 1349 Pillsbury Drive.

 _Thwick! Swiiit!_

The odd, rythmically close noises made Jameson and several other people in his vicinity look towards the sky to pinpoint the location of the noises. A red blur passed his eyes once, and the it disappeared past another building on the opposite side of the sidewalk. The man scanned the air intently for seconds after his pasture and even after people began to quiet their murmeringue and continue walking. "My, he's everywhere nowadays. "

Jameson turned to her slowly, turning his head with slightly incredulous movements. "Come again? Who is?"

"That guy that just flew over our heads. He's not seen very often, so people pretty much call him an Urban Legend around here.."

"Hmmm..."

Jameson studied the mental image of the blur with hatred, as multiple other accounts of this 'legend' being spotted ran through his mind like a bullet train. As little known as he was, 5his vigilante was famous. He turned on his heel and walked back across the street, right to the workplace he intended to leave earlier. He practically spat out the cigar at a nearby trashcan. "Famous, hmm?...I'll make him infamous."

* * *

 **Sorry it's short, but it does set up foreshadowing for the next chapter. In other news, the new Homecoming trailer is pretty good.**


End file.
